


An Inglourious Affair

by ann2who, morphia



Category: Marvel Ultimates, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friends With Benefits, Inglourious Basterds AU - Freeform, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protective Steve Rogers, Secret Relationship, Strangers to Lovers, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-31 09:05:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10896129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ann2who/pseuds/ann2who, https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia
Summary: In 1944, Steve's commando team, The Basterds, are off to fight nazis in France. Tony joins their efforts after intelligence suggests that Herr Kleiser, a German scientist, has set his sights on making a massive nuclear bomb. Their mission: Get to Kleiser before he completes his evil plan. What neither of them had planned for, however, was to fall in love in the middle of the worst war either of them had ever seen.





	1. June 1944, France

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Some would note the irony of having a German person and a Jewish person writing a gay fanfic that takes place in WWII. These girls did, anyway.
> 
> We want to thank our amazing artist Faite for the whole idea and more importantly: For her wonderful fanart. Go check it out [here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10917213)

Tony looked up and glared at the dim light bulb dangling above his head. At night, there was never a good way to keep on working, with the way he could barely see his own writing. It wouldn’t be a problem, if he had the chance to work on his projects during the day, but of course they were marching across the country as long as the sun was up, and during those few hours they were actually resting, Tony was either busy setting up camp or drinking till the lights went out.

War. Tony  _ hated _ this war.

A loud crash echoed through the room and made a blanket of dust rain down on his head. Automatically, he shook the blueprint he’d been working on, folded it and put it in his jacket. The noises from upstairs were obviously originating from Steve’s room and by now, there were only a series of irregular thuds left, which suggested that whichever fight Steve had gotten into was coming to an end.

Tony sighed and stood up. He walked up the stairs and was about to open the door when the noise from the other side reached an unexpected crescendo.

“Do that one more time and I will—”

“ _ Tu es fou! _ ”

“—tell your commanding officer what you’ve been up to and—”

“ _ Stupide améric— _ ”

That last word ended in a choked off cry.

Tony opened the door and rolled his eyes when he spotted the three men inside.

Barnes had his back to Tony. Now, he turned his head, looking over his shoulder as he grinned at him. Steve was leaning over a lanky-looking guy, who was in turn sprawled on his back half across the big circular table. Steve’s left hand had the man pinned by his shoulder, and the right choked his throat.

“Do we have a situation?” Tony asked with a languid smile.

“I told you to stay downstairs,” Steve said very calmly.

“This will draw attention on us,” Tony pointed out. “Which, at this point, is a really bad idea.”

“We’ve survived on bad ideas so far,” Steve said as he straightened and released the hand from the man’s throat.

“Care to tell me what—” Tony tried again, but stopped at Steve’s furious scowl.

“Bucky,” Steve called, “get our friend down to the first aid room and fix him up. I’ll see him when you’ve finished.”

“Sure,” Barnes said. They were quiet until the door had closed on the two men, then, Tony nodded at Steve’s hand that was currently curled into a fist at his side.

“What happened?”

After two years of false leads, they were  _ this _ close to finally getting their hands on valuable information on  _ Herr Kleiser _ ’s whereabouts. Kleiser was one of Hitler’s most high ranking officers, a man planning to build the first nuclear weapon. They’d followed him all across Europe, from Italy to Switzerland to France.

Tony couldn’t risk this. And normally Steve wouldn’t either.

“Come on, you don’t give someone a beating for ‘nothing’.” Even as Tony said it he was all too aware of the irony of the comment. When he’d agreed to join the Basterds two years ago, fighting at their side on the frontlines, he’d read ‘Captain America’s’ dossier. And thus, he was well aware of the many times a younger Steve Rogers had gotten into trouble, for no other motivation than his hot temper.

And yet, there had always been reasons.

Steve had a code of honor and discipline as rigid as anything Tony had ever come across. When Steve gave someone his trust he expected the same in return and when he did not get it, he immediately felt betrayed.

“Didn’t he have the information we were looking for?” Tony guessed.

“No, he had it,” Steve said, his jaw flexing. “We know about Kleiser’s next steps.”

Which would normally be a thing to celebrate, so Tony frowned in confusion. Anxious to force a reaction, he reached out to touch Steve’s wrist.

“Darling,” Tony prompted softly. “What happens with our mission is my business, too. I can’t plan ahead unless I know what’s going on.”

After what seemed an eternity Steve’s eyes finally lifted to meet his. “He had the information we needed, but it’s… complicated. Much more than we thought.” Steve cleared his throat shortly. “And he hit on me.”

“What?” It was the last thing Tony had expected. And he felt the corners of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. “Did he now.”

Steve took a breath, apparently both angry and exasperated by Tony’s reaction.

“We talked about daily life on the frontlines and he touched me up.” Steve was looking directly into Tony’s eyes now.

“Mmm,” Tony hummed, stepping a bit closer to Steve. “He was quite handsome, was he not?”

That had Steve roll his eyes. “He did it right in front of Bucky. And he isn’t…” He released a low breath, obviously torn.

“Your type?” Tony prompted.

The boy had been fair and lanky, pretty and not so roughed up. The exact opposite of Tony, and they both knew it.

With an air of defiance Steve said, “No, he isn’t.” On the last word, he cast Tony a pointed look.

Tony was saved from responding to what was likely the most open confession he’d yet heard from Steve about his attraction to him by a knock at the door and Dugan’s voice tentatively asking: “Cap?”

“Wait,” Steve commanded, and looked back to Tony. “We’ll get the rest of the information out of him. I’ll brief you all after, but you’d better pack your things, we’ll be leaving right after dinner.”

Steve turned without waiting for a reply and opened the door to reveal Dugan and Barnes standing there. The two were giving them amused looks and not for the first time Tony thought they probably knew about them. Or what little there was to know, at least.

It wasn’t like they were going steady, or even be close to what you’d call ‘together’. They were just… doing things. With each other. Exclusively, if Tony had to guess, because surely noble and virtuous Captain Steven Rogers wouldn’t go around and look for stress relief by himself.

It simply… it helped them both calm down after another day full of horror and gore. And if Tony had at some point developed actual feelings, well, that was clearly his own problem.

He was only an outlet for Steve, he didn’t delude himself about that. Once the war was over—and it  _ would _ be over—Steve would go home back to his sweetheart, and he’d never think back on the sordid thing they’d had here, in this godforsaken land.

Dugan was still looking at them in that certain perceptive way of his as he informed Steve that the Frenchman had been tended to and was now waiting in Steve’s office as requested. Steve nodded, told the pair to help Tony clear up his makeshift workshop, and left.

Tony sighed. He  _ hated _ it when Steve ordered him around like that. With his thirty-seven years, Tony was ten years his senior and with a wealth of experience and expertise that Steve was already learning to rely on. Tony was a key member of the team, and they both damn well knew it.

 

* * *

 

After the Nazis took Paris, the Allied Forces had ordered Steve’s team to move to France. It was 1942, the year Tony had joined the Basterds, now serving under the ever-famous Captain Steven Rogers.

The team consisted of five men. Steve, his childhood friend James Bucky Barnes, Dugan and Logan, both assholes in their own charming way, and Tony, their resident genius a.k.a. tech guy.

He’d agreed to join the team after he’d heard of Kleiser’s plans to not only build an A-Bomb, but a prototype nuclear weapon with even more destructive power. Something to potentially eradicate whole countries.

Steve’s team, as unorthodox as most of their plans and strategies were, were by far the most effective commando unit out there. At their side, Tony would have the best chance to stop Kleiser from destroying the whole damn planet.

When Tony’d walked onto a battlefield for the first time; there was a French resistance company stationed just across a river and they’d managed to get into scrapes even a hundred miles back from the line. He remembered a young soldier had been missing most of his right arm. He’d barely been twenty.

At dinner, he’d grinned at Tony around a mouthful of stale bread and later asked for a pen so he could write to his family, telling them he was coming home. He was right-handed, however, so Tony wrote the letter for him, and the guy leaned back in his chair and told him that he planned to open a vineyard in Provence after the war.

Later that night, after they’d had a few drinks in a bar nearby, the soldier had told Tony he was the prettiest man he'd ever seen and that he’d like to kiss him real badly. In the end, Tony didn’t only end up kissing him, he’d also sucked him off right in an alley next to the bar, while the other soldiers more or less stood just a few meters away from them.

That was, of course, how Steve had found him. It was only about the third day Tony’d spent on the team, but by then, he already knew that Steve was the most conservative, stuck-up guy Tony’d ever met.

_ Before _ Steve, Tony’d never cared much about who knew that he liked men as much as women. He was America’s best engineer, multi-millionaire, beloved child-genius. Some newspapers had called him ‘The last hope of the free world’. No one would put so much as a finger on him just because he wasn’t picky when it came to his bed partners.

Since he was in Steve’s team, however, it was becoming harder by the day to do what he pleased.

For one, because while Steve wasn’t outright hostile towards him, he obviously didn’t fancy queers much—or so Tony’d thought.

“You’re just asking to be sent back home, aren’t you,” Steve had snarled at him back then, after he’d caught him in that alley. Tony was standing in Steve’s tent, with Steve sitting at his desk, and Tony watched as he ran a hand through his blond, short hair, apparently fighting an inclination to yell at Tony.

“This is war,” Tony’d said, chuckling as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. “If you really think this isn’t happening every day, then—”

“Shut up, Stark,” Steve’d snapped—the first of many times to follow. “I don’t care if it happens behind closed doors. But you’re part of my team and you won’t discredit me right where everyone can see you. If you were feeling that frustrated, there are plenty of women in the village you could proposition.”

“Maybe I don’t want any woman,” Tony’d pointed out, then took a large gulp, feeling the liquid burn down his throat. “Besides, in those pants, the guy had been asking for it.” His eyes had dipped to Steve’s lower regions. “You’re not much better.”

Steve’s hand had balled into a fist, but instead of hitting Tony, he’d rounded the desk and stood right in front of him.

“I don’t care what you do as long as you do it where no one can see you,” he’d continued, “but if you ever so much as think of... propositioning... any member of this team in the future I will personally ensure that you go straight back home. Is that clear?”

“As a diamond, darling,” Tony’d said, smiling. “And if a member of this team propositions me?”

Steve’s hands shook with the effort of self control, his knuckles turning white. “Get out,” he’d told him, tightly, obviously controlling himself with an effort. “We’ll move at 0500. I don’t want to see you before then.”

“Aye, Captain,” Tony’d answered, exiting Steve’s tent with quick strides.

It had been one hell of a first impression, and after that, Steve’d been ignoring him for the better part of the next week. Only when Tony’d built him a bomb out of scrapes during a fight in Sainte-Mère l'Eglise, thus saving the team’s sorry asses during a nightly ambush, was Tony able to regain Steve’s respect.

In the weeks to follow, they were getting along better. Steve was about the least emotional man Tony had ever come across, but he knew he valued Tony’s work, and maybe also his counsel. Somehow, he even put up with Tony's relentless, though stealthy, flirtations. And still, it came as a big surprise when, one night, as they were both on guard duty and Tony had said something about liking blondes because they were  _ usually _ more fun, Steve’d exhaled a sharp huff, a mixture of frustration and resignation and something almost angry, and reached for the lapels of Tony’s jacket and pulled him in.

To say their first kiss had been lacking some sort of finesse would’ve been a vast understatement. It had been primal and urgent and, yes, sort of furious. It had almost felt like Steve was trying to yell at him while kissing him within an inch of his life. Like he was blaming Tony for wanting this, while he’d yanked at their clothing, undressing them here, of all places, in some dusty lookout point.

They’d ended up rutting against each other, and it had been a fight to make Steve stop long enough for some spit to ease the way, and the next times they’d done this—always in the middle of the night and always over too quickly—had been much of the same.

It had taken weeks for Steve to ease up a little, take more time, maybe actually enjoy it, but Tony wasn’t deluding himself.

Once the war was over, they’d be, too.

While Steve respected and valued him, while he knew he needed him if he ever wanted to defeat Kleiser, he could certainly never love him.

 

* * *

 

Tony's form was half cast in shadows in the dimly lit room, every motion languorous and natural as he reached for the expensive Brandy and poured himself a generous serving. He was naked, facing away from Steve, and only the slightest smile and tilt of the head gave any indication that he was aware of Steve's staring. In these moments, Steve never knew what to say, and Tony never made any attempt at helping him bridge the gap. His eyes rove over Tony's back, drawn to the lightest glistening at his thighs before snapping back up to his face. How could he want more so soon after? He kept his face impassive, carefully controlled. Tony turned around.

"Want some brandy, darling?" he said, like it's easy. His smile flirtatious, the cant of his hips tempting. Steve looked away.

"You ever gonna stop?" he countered, and he wasn't sure what he was asking, really. Tony didn't answer right away, and Steve fought the temptation to look at him again. He knew a glance would be enough to make him crave more, and now was not the time. "Dugan will be back within the hour. Be presentable before then," he said instead of waiting for an answer. He slid out of bed and walked up to Tony, spared a glance at him despite himself, and did  _ not _ think 'Beautiful' as he put the lid back on the Brandy bottle. "Make it last. Supply's only due next week."

"Aye, Cap, dear." Tony saluted with his glass, and Steve nodded his head slightly before heading to the shower. It might be a cheap hotel that housed their base of operations for the time being, but at least the facilities were decent. He didn't toy with the thought of sharing a shower with Tony, and closed the door in his face.

"Have fun," Tony's drawl came through the door, and Steve shook his head, finally alone. 

In truth, he'd never thought of himself in these terms before he met Stark. He'd had Gail back home, and sure, he'd broken it off when he went to war, but men never seemed attractive before. He considered the past months since Tony had joined them. Finding him with a man, being unreasonably, unfathomably jealous. He'd reprimanded him only to have those infuriatingly blue eyes smile at him knowingly. He should've known the genius would mean trouble.

It had become a thing that they did and he didn't know how to name it, how to wrap his head around it. It was relationship, but not like that, and not entirely  _ not _ like that, either. The mirror showed a tired, rumpled blond man who stared back, looking as lost as he felt. 

He'd always known where he stood with people, before. Bucky was his best friend, the Basterds were his team. Gail was his sweetheart—or had been. Nazis were bad, the allied forces were good, and Steve didn't like men.

Only that Tony came along and completely turned his world upside down, he thought as he turned from his reflection and got the water going. Seeing that… Frenchman with his dick in Tony's mouth… It had done things to Steve's mind. Suddenly good was bad and foreign frenchmen with a missing limb were the enemy. 

How the powerful resentment had overcome him… Steve had been completely thrown, and he didn't like that part of himself, suddenly revealed. He resented Tony for making him feel that way, but in truth he knew it hadn't been entirely Tony's fault. It hadn't been Tony's fault at all, not really. Tony only flirted, his voice light, like he thought that would somehow camouflage the underlying hope in his eyes. 

He knew Tony found him attractive, he'd made no secret of it, at least not from Steve, but the line between finding Steve attractive and wanting…  _ wanting _ . Tony lived well past it, and Steve could tell by the way he caught Tony staring sometimes, and by those fleeting touches that Tony passed off as camaraderie. 

He showered efficiently and tried to work out his emotions. It was not a task he'd ever been particularly good at. The tangle of thoughts kept winding into a messy knot that could not be unraveled—not easily, and not over an evening, or a couple of months, or a lifetime, he thought. 

He would think of it another time, he had to focus. There was information, and a mission he had to formulate. He folded his troubled thoughts and emotions about Tony into a small box and put it aside for later.

 

* * *

 

By the time Dugan and the gang got back, both Steve and Tony were as presentable as could be. Tony had just about finished packing, and Steve's duffle was ready as well. Their informant was no longer an issue, if Logan's grim expression was anything to go by. 

They headed out in the early dawn's darkness. The walk wasn't very long, and they loaded their APC in short order before boarding it and driving out. Steve drove, Bucky sat beside him, and Logan, Tony and Dugan shared the back of the car. No one mentioned the wrecked streets, devoid of any people, and Steve only very rarely glanced at the rear-view to check on his men. 

Following the map and the coordinates from the informant, Steve got off the main road and into the woods. He parked about a mile out and they started getting things ready for the raid. The informant had been certain that Kleiser was in this outpost, and had also given them other bits of intelligence about it. 

The car was quickly covered in camo and a few branches, and they started trudging out with their gear in the cover of the woods.

The sun was hanging high in the sky, and the team was on high alert. Steve brought them to a halt half a mile in and sat them all down to get everything ready and go over the plan one last time.

"Bucky," Steve said, glancing at his friend across the map that was spread on the ground in the middle of their make-shift meeting space. "You're scouting." Bucky nodded his head. "See if the information is sound, and then you're on sniping duty." 

"Yes, Captain." 

"Dugan, Logan," the two looked at him, the joy of battle already bubbling under the surface in their eyes. "You're initial strike team. Bucky gives you the location, you go there as fast as you can. I give the mark, Bucky starts the diversion and you strike, no delays." They nodded their heads in tandem. "Then Tony and I join in on second wind from this open area." He gestured to the map. "If you guys do your job right, by the time we get there everyone's already dead, and all we gotta do is find Kleiser's ugly face in the ruins, but if I know that guy at all…. It's not gonna be that easy." 

Tony handed each team a radio-communicator and reviewed once more which frequencies they would be working on, before Steve dismissed them. "We start at 1300. Get your things ready and be back here by then. Go."

 

* * *

 

During the events of the past two years, Tony had often wondered why he’d ever agreed to the Army’s proposition, and after having done so, why he hadn’t taken one of the many opportunities to leave at some point. He wasn’t a soldier, not like Steve and his team, and logically, he could perfectly well build their gear and the gadgets at home.

Sure, having someone who could repair and rebuild and upgrade your stuff on site was helpful— _ he _ was helpful—but still. He wouldn’t have  _ needed _ to come here and to subject himself to this daily hell.

Tony figured half of the reason was his addiction to danger, half a fascination with the infamous Captain America and whether or not he’d actually be able to stop Kleiser from building that super weapon.

They had been almost killed several times over, and each of them had been wounded to some degree at some point. It was incredible that they’d made it out of Poland, and Italy, and doing it without losing even one teammate was a goddamn miracle.

This mission today could mean the end of their journey, though knowing Steve, he probably wouldn’t stop until every last nazi had a bullet in their head.

And knowing himself, he’d follow him until he was too frail to hold a gun in his hands.

Tony sighed as he checked said guns. All loaded and ready. Kleiser’s outpost was barely visible from here. There was a small concrete building with barely any windows, and one didn’t have to be a genius to know there was a bunker underground. There were periscope-like pipes protruding from the soil and with his binoculars, Tony could see the entrance behind a wall of trees and bushes.

From their position on the slope, it was hard to find out how many guards and other people were in there. It was also hard to tell if there was a different way out, maybe a hidden passage. He only knew if they went in there and got ambushed, there maybe wasn’t going to be a way out anymore.

“Looks good to me, Cap,” Bucky told them over communicator, a good twenty minutes later, followed by static. “You were right about the weak-spot, too. There’s three entrances and the farthest north, two o’clock from your position, only has two guards, as far as I can see.”

Steve hummed, raising his own binoculars to his eyes, looking down at the area. Tony often found himself marveling at how fast his mind worked, and he knew some of those strategic skills had been enhanced by Erskine’s treatments, but Steve must’ve been fiercely intelligent from the start to maneuver them through this war the way he did.

“Doubts?” Tony asked, glancing at him. They were lying side by side, their legs touching, and his hand sort of itched to be placed on Steve’s tensed shoulder but he knew Steve didn’t like these open affections.

“No,” Steve told him shortly, then held his communicator to his lips. “Dugan, Logan, move into position,” he ordered in his best Captain voice that always made Tony shiver.

“Yessir,” Dugan answered in a teasing voice, then fell silent.

It took long minutes before Logan added, “In position.”

Almost in sync, they took a deep breath, and Steve put the binoculars back in his bag before ordering, “Bucky. Take them out.”

Only a few seconds later, there were low shots in the distance. Tony didn’t see the guards dropping but he knew Barnes didn’t miss. And soon after, the real shooting started. The sounds were echoing across the clearing, and Steve motioned to follow him.

They stealthed along the line of trees and it were times like this when Tony was reminded how very much he didn’t belong here. Sure, he could handle his weapons, he had decent aim, but he still hadn’t gotten used to this, the adrenaline, the risk.

“Keep your head down,” Steve ordered as they made their way to the entrance nearby. If they went in there, with any luck they could flank from two sides and thus keep Kleiser from escaping.

“Yes, darling,” Tony shot back and his heart missed a beat when he heard someone approaching to his right. Before he could so much as lift his gun, Steve had already whirled around, a shot ringing through the air.

The guy who’d been running towards them, clearly one of Kleiser’s men, dressed in a classic SS uniform, fell down on the ground, followed by a second soon after. There were suddenly a bunch of men coming towards them, and Tony got a shot in himself, even while Steve pulled at his backpack, directing him behind another line of trees.

“You find cover,  _ then _ you shoot,” Steve snapped as he shot another.

There was a clicking sound behind them, and Tony’s eyes widened as he realized someone had raised their gun at him. Before he could do something, however, Steve’s shield hit the attacker right in his face, a shattering sound coming from the guy’s nose. For a moment, he simply stood there, before his legs apparently gave out on him and he fell to his knees.

“And watch your six,” Steve added, sounding pissed, as he burrowed a hand in the man’s uniform jacket, pulling him up slightly. 

“I was distracted,” Tony said, even as he reloaded his gun. “You’re very distracting when you shoot nazis.”

Steve shot him a  _ look _ , before glaring down at the man in his grip. There was blood running down the guy’s mouth, and Tony could see him shaking under Steve’s eyes.

Well.

Tony had to give it to him, Steve could be downright terrifying when he wanted to be.

“Cap, Kleiser’s not here,” Logan told them via the communicator. “Not much resistance either. I don’t think this was his homebase.”

“I got all the runners,” Bucky added and Tony could hear him moving. “16 in total. Anyone got more?”

“Fucker,” Tony murmured, running a hand through his hair, as he listened to the others bickering over kill numbers. “And people wonder why I drink…”

“ _ Ihr werdet ihn niemals finden _ ,” the soldier in Steve’s grip spat, and Tony held back an annoyed groan at that. He had the misfortune of having decent grasp of the German language, and so he understood perfectly what the soldier was saying.

They wouldn’t find him. Kleiser had always been a step ahead, and it seemed that wouldn’t be changing any time soon.

He sighed. “I’m sorry, Steve,” he said as he spotted the dark expression on Steve’s face. The hand that kept the soldier afloat was tightening even further, his knuckles turning white.

“Could you two stop making out in the woods?” Bucky suddenly asked, the question loud between them. “We could use some help with cleanup. And interrogation.”

A surprised grin reached Tony’s lips. He glanced over to Steve, expecting his anger to sort of boil over now—never before had any of their teammates acknowledged what Tony thought was a pretty obvious affair.

But instead, Steve only rolled his eyes. He didn’t look too bothered by the fact that his team seemed to know about them, all things considered, and Tony had a hard time keeping the sudden rush of hope down to a minimum.

He watched as Steve let the soldier drop on the floor, followed by a very hard and very satisfying kick to the head. Another crack. Probably the skull.

Tony raised his communicator, still grinning. “Don’t know. Steve seems to be really into it.”

With an exasperated breath, Steve looked down at the groaning man at his feet. He wiped the sole of his shoe on the man’s uniform, then put his shield back on its holder.

“Interrogation it is,” Tony concluded, and together, they dragged the guy to their APC.

 

* * *

 

"I got good news and bad news for you, boss," Dugan said as he stepped out of the room where he'd been interrogating the prisoner. While Steve was often a hands-on kind of guy, some things just were not his forte, and besides, he needed to let the other members of his team feel useful, right? Dugan's expression gave away nothing regarding how well the ordeal had gone, but if it was anything like their marvelous operation, Steve would be… disappointed. 

"Bad news first," Steve said shortly. The guys were all lounging in the common area of their rented apartment. The prisoner was held in one room, while the rest of the rooms had been split to convenience. No one had raised any questions when Tony ended up bunking with the commander. For now, it didn't matter one way or the other. Steve had suspected for a while now that the carefully kept secret was not as much of a secret as he'd initially wanted it to be, and as the team didn't fuss about it, he figured it was safe. He trusted these men with his life, his secrets were no different. He glanced shortly at Tony, saw him tinkering with something off to the side, but Steve knew he was listening, ever attentive. His eyes returned to Dugan.

"Bad news is, our prize is no longer in the country," Dugan said, and paused when Steve swore under his breath. Bucky stopped in the middle of reassembling his rifle to send an amused look at Steve. 

"That the kinda language your ma woulda liked to hear from you?" he teased, and laughed when Steve ignored him entirely. Logan took a drink from his beer but said nothing. 

"Kleiser's back in Germany, has been for a good couple of months it seems." Dugan sat down heavily on the empty chair at the table. "But the good news is he's going to make a public appearance real soon." 

Steve stared at him, not understanding. "How exactly is that good news?" 

"Vulnerability, Cap." Tony's voice was sharp in the dense quiet of the room. Steve looked over to him, keeping his face flat. There were things, unresolved thoughts, that ran through his mind whenever he looked at Tony, especially after battles. The more they got involved, physically, the more dangerous it was to take him on field-work. Images of the near-misses they'd had during the last mission kept flashing through his mind, the horrible click of a loading mechanism, the split second of hesitation… 

"I'm listening," he said when Tony kept quiet, as though waiting for permission to continue.

"Well, up until now he's… what? A rumour. Wherever we look for him, it's a decoy, a military base. He can't hide from a public event—he has to show up. And so will we. If we can get into whatever public occasion he intends to show up to, we can finish him there and then."

Steve stood up abruptly, nearly toppling over his chair. "Public assassination." 

"Martyr the guy, why don't you," Logan muttered under his breath and lit his cigar. 

"Got any better leads?" Tony countered. Steve could see the discussion deteriorating into a shouting contest before it even started and planted both hands on the table. Bucky's rifle-parts rattled, startling everyone into stillness.

"The prisoner?" Steve asked, directing his question at Dugan.

"Passed out, could probably bring him to, but that's all he's got." 

"Mark him up and get rid of him," Steve said, then shook his head. "No, I'll take care of that. Dugan, written report—I want all the details. The rest of you are dismissed. Tony," and it was almost endearing how Tony's attention seemed to stay on him at all times. Steve didn't let any of these completely unwarranted feelings show, but he knew he'd have to deal with these thoughts at some point—probably sooner than he'd like to. "You wanna watch?" 

A brief second passed where deathly silence ruled the dim room, but Tony dropped the item he was tinkering with right on the next beat and was on his feet before anyone could say anything. "Yes." 

Sparing him a tiny smile, Steve nodded his head, then surveyed the rest of the men in the room. "We'll regroup in the morning. Anything you wanna say about this new lead, that would be the time." 

He turned from them without waiting for their acceptance, but received it nonetheless in the form of tired 'Aye-cap'n'. Reaching into his utility belt, he pulled out his Smith and Wesson Bowie knife and inspected it. It was recently sharpened and oiled to smoothness, no rusted edges. Pleased, he re-sheathed it and glanced at Tony as he fell in step with him. 

The door closed behind them, where the prisoner lay limp, tied by his wrists to the chair. Steve watched the soldier with distaste. He did not love to do this, but by rights, some crimes ought to come with a mark of shame that could never be removed. 

"What d'you think?" he asked lowly, knowing Tony would know it was directed at him. He shouldn't give Tony's opinion a higher regard than the rest of the squad. They were all well and truly skilled men. But the reasonable, practical parts of his mind paid little mind to the leanings of his heart. The idea terrified him, but he knew it would be too late to try and change the state of affairs now.

"I think you should start from the left this time," Tony said, purposely misdirecting his question. Steve gave him a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow as he drew out the knife again.

"Good one. Shame he's out of it," he mused, glancing at the knife again. "But, you know, answer my question." 

Tony's eyes were fixed on the knife for a moment, before he shook his head. "I think if we know exactly where he's going to be, we can take him out. I think we can do it in a non-public way if we play our cards right." 

"And you think we should." Steve grasped the man by the jaw and went to work. Tony looked away. 

"I think it might be our only chance."

And that, when it was all said and done, was what had sealed it for Steve. He wiped the knife on the prisoner's shirt and put it away before turning to Tony and grabbing him by the shoulders. "I think you may be right," he said, and then kissed Tony with all the anxiety for his life that he dared not face when they were in public, when the rest of the squad was around, when he had to pretend he was level-headed and emotionless.

Tony held him close like this meant something to him, and Steve, for the briefest moments, didn't put his sordid thoughts in place. Yes, Tony was probably not going to give a rat's ass about him once the war was over, and Steve couldn't imagine how anything between them would actually work, anyway, but that didn't mean he wasn't allowed to fantasize. They kissed deeply, pressed flush against one another for a long moment, but before it could get too heated, Tony tapped his shoulder lightly, making Steve pull back to give him a questioning look.

"Much as I'd like to continue doing this right here and now, sweetheart, we might want to get rid of that one before he starts screaming." True enough, the prisoner was starting to stir. Steve clenched his teeth with annoyance. "And then," Tony drew his attention back, the smile on his face easy, much less grievous than it'd been before they started kissing, "we can probably move this to the bedroom." 

Move it to the bedroom,  _ like it meant something _ , his mind supplied again. Steve had taken a long time to accept that he was doing this, with a man, steady. It was when they started doing this in comfortable settings, on beds, that Steve knew he was done for. He cared more for Tony than he ever had for Gail, love her though he had. He knew, logically, that for Tony it must be more of a comfort-arrangement than anything else, but resigned himself to sink in it as low as he would allow himself. There were no guarantees either of them would survive the war, after all.

"Sounds like a plan," he said, pecking Tony's cheek briefly before moving away to get his hands on the prisoner. "Get the door."

 

* * *

 

The night had been intense. Steve had to put in some effort for it not to show in the morning when he saw the squad in the rented place's kitchen. Despite his efforts, the knowing looks he got showed there was truly no hiding any secrets from them. Bracing himself, he took Dugan's report and laid it on the kitchen table before him as he waited for everyone to settle down. He scanned everyone's faces before speaking.

"I'm not going to pretend this will be easy," he said, flipping to the first page. "Any other squad, I'd be saying this is suicide—and it still might be." He paused, letting his words sink in. "But, this might be the last chance we got to get Kleiser before he finishes his super-secret weapon, and we can't let that opportunity slide." 

"That what your little fairy whispered to you at night?" Logan asked, his eyes set on Tony, who steadfastly did not meet the derisive stare. "Was it before or after he let you screw him through the mattress?" 

Before Logan could even finish the sentence, both Bucky and Dugan had jumped to their feet to break up the fight they must've sensed was coming. Tony sat stock still, fists clenched in his lap, and Steve stayed in his seat as well, but he wasn't frozen or surprised by the crude accusation. He leveled Logan with a deeply reproachful look. 

"Are you saying he's wrong?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled. He made no effort to negate the accusation, and Logan held his stare for a long moment. It was a stalemate, but Logan broke eye contact first. They all knew Kleiser was close to his breakthrough, and they knew there was not a minute to spare. 

"Siddown," Logan said, glancing at Dugan and Bucky. "Y'ain't gonna be gettin' any action this mornin'. Seems like all the good-ol' cap'n needed to get that stick outta his ass was to stick his own in someone else's." 

The tension, somehow, broke, as after a brief pause, both Tony and Bucky burst into laughter, and were soon joined in by Dugan as well. Once everyone was seated again and quieted down, there was little left of it. Logan lit his cigar and stuck it between his teeth. "Now," he grumbled. "How d'you plan to get our sorry asses in and outta Germany without gettin' us all killed?" 

"I'm glad you asked," Steve said, his tone flat as he drew from his pocket a tattered little photo. "Do you know this lady?" he asked as he set it down in the center of the table. 

"Janet Van Dyne?" Dugan asked, and Bucky grinned up at him. "The designer?" 

"Didn't you hook up with her a couplea times?" Bucky offered, elbowing him faintly. Steve shrugged. 

"Once or twice," he admitted, not acknowledging a slight embarrassment at the admission. "We're on friendly terms, and she's always invited to all these Nazi events. She hates it, but she'd put up with it if it meant helping the Allies." 

"You mean us," Dugan accused. "You think that frail thing is built for combat?" 

"Please," Tony spoke for the first time this morning. Everyone fell silent at once. "This is going to be an undercover operation. No combat necessary." He gestured with his chin at the photo. "She'll help us get in, point us in the right direction, and then all we gotta do is isolate the guy and put a bullet or ten in him." He downed his drink to finalize the statement.

"I like the sound of that," Bucky admitted, grinning despite himself. "But I still think this is suicide."

"It may well be," Steve said, refocusing everyone's attention to himself. "Which is why this one is not a mandatory mission. You wanna get a pass on this one, you got it. You'll be reassigned, no hard feelings." Steve paused, shook his head slightly. "But I won't pretend we won't need all the manpower we can get, and I can't say there are any other men out there I would trust with this mission." 

Tony leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. "So dramatic," he crowed. 

"That's Cap," Dugan agreed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Always thinking he can hog all the fun."

"Not gonna happen," Bucky agreed, and when Steve looked at Logan, the man had just puffed out a cloud of blue-ish grey smoke. 

"Ya'think I'll let the lot'a you get yourself killed out there and not have your backs?" was all he had to say on the matter.

"Glad that's settled, then. In that case, I need to make some calls, and you need to work on your German accents." 

The half-assed command was accepted with hearty laughter, and Steve shook his head with a rueful smile before he got to his feet. "Dismissed." 


	2. July 1944, seventy miles from the German border

**** Tony let his eyes wander over the wooden panels in front of him. The curtains were mostly draped over the small windows and they were thick enough not to let in any light. Only around the edges, where folds lifted the material away from the frame, light crept past.

The moonlight was soft and blueish, and while their train rolled through the empty countryside, it was the only light out there. Only whenever they passed through a village or town, thin orange stripes would flicker on the walls, dancing right in front of Tony’s eyes.

At first, Tony’d sat on one of the empty bunks, staring through the windows, but after while, it had just been too depressing. The war had done a number on the country, and as he lay down, he promised himself that he would do anything in his power to stop Kleiser and men like him.

Steve was right. This mission might be suicidal, but it was also worth giving their lives for, if it couldn’t be helped.

It would be another four hours before they’d have to board a different train that’d bring them over the border to Germany. They’d stepped into this train in Lyon last night. That way, they would arrive just in time to finish preparations for the gala in Munich.

Jan would meet them at the railroad station, then they’d drive to one of her stores, setting everything up.

Sighing, Tony reached for the bottle of whiskey he’d stashed in his duffel bag. He took a short sip right from the bottle, then let his head drop back on the pillow beneath him.

“You need to be sober tomorrow,” Steve said, making Tony jump slightly. It was in the middle of the night, and he’d been certain Steve and the others were already fast asleep.

Steve’s expression was serious, and Tony knew he had a point. With the money the government had provided them with, they’d bought fancy shoes and bow ties, bought hair products and clean socks and underwear and even went to a barbier to make sure they looked like upper-class people who never got their hands dirty instead of soldiers who’d been fighting on the frontlines for the past two years. Janet would give each of them a suit from her collection, and after Tony did some… adjustments… they would be ready.

And yet, there were so many things that could go wrong.

“I know,” Tony answered quietly. They were lying on bunks across from each other, the other men were sleeping in the beds next to theirs, with a thick shade separating each compartment.

Logan and Dugan were both snoring loudly, but by now, Tony was used to that.

He took another sip, and at Steve’s raised eyebrow, he cast him a low smile. “I’ll be sober enough,” he reassured him. He and Steve were the only ones who actually spoke German, even with a halfway decent accent. He knew Steve needed him. And he wouldn’t let him down. Besides, a little bit of booze wouldn't hurt his schmoozing capacities.

Steve nodded, but his expression was tense at best. His eyes dropped on Tony’s bunk bed, then he bit his lower lip.

Tony smiled knowingly. “It’s not big enough, but I don’t mind.”

At first, it looked like Steve would just readjust his position and try to go back to sleep, but then, with a deep breath, he raised himself to his feet and shuffled over to Tony’s bed. He took the whiskey bottle from him, pointedly pushing it into Tony’s bag.

To say it was a tight fit when Steve lay down next to him was like saying pews in the church were a bit uncomfortable, but they curled around each other and there was just enough room, even if Steve’s right leg did dangle over the side.

“I’m sorry the others found out,” Tony said, aware that the others could probably hear them. But again—by now he’d seen and heard it all. This might as well be the end of the world—his world, at least—and he’d long ago left shame and self-esteem behind. “I know you didn’t want them to.”

“I don’t care,” Steve replied, surprising Tony once again. He’d  _ thought _ Steve had taken it pretty well, even Logan’s jibes, but he hadn’t been sure if that sudden openness was a permanent thing.

“That’s new,” Tony whispered. He let a thumb brush over Steve’s cheek, along the shape of his bone and up to his temple. He’d often wondered what went on in that head, had spent sleepless nights asking himself if Steve thought about him affectionately at all, or if he well and truly hated him for bringing him down to this level. He knew Steve liked what they did, he knew he liked the things Tony did to him, but he’d never been sure if he liked  _ him _ —Tony.

In those past few weeks, he’d often thought Steve looked at him a little differently. During sex, he now touched Tony, pulling him near, outright clinging as he rutted into him. Tony liked to tell himself then that maybe Steve was feeling what Tony was feeling himself: They wouldn’t have this much longer. And they had to make it count now, those few times they still got.

Instead of commenting on Tony’s half-question, Steve leaned in. At first, he only pressed his forehead against Tony’s, and Tony felt his breaths on his face, before he leaned in and kissed Tony. Around them, it was warm and dark and the rhythmic clatter of the train was soothing.

“Tell me, darling,” Tony started saying against Steve’s lips, his fingers burying themselves in Steve’s sleep shirt.

“Yes, I have,” Steve answered, kissing his way down Tony’s chin.

Tony frowned. “Have what?”

“You were about to ask me if I had sex on a train before, weren’t you?” Steve asked, and Tony felt him smiling against his skin. “The answer is: Yes, I have.”

“I was not,” Tony murmured.

Steve leaned back slightly. He gave Tony a placid look, with just the merest hint of a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, I was,” Tony conceded and got rewarded with a slow kiss.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t do it again,” Steve added, then leaned up a bit, checking the shades to give them a bit more privacy.

At that, Tony’s brain went into high functioning mode, analyzing the space they had, the supplies they had, the surroundings they were in, and at the end of it all, he released a long-suffering sigh.

“It’s not really…”  _ a good time, _ he wanted to say, but Steve, bless him, had apparently followed his line of thought and decided to blow all reason to hell. His right hand had sneaked its way down to Tony’s boxer shorts, slowly rubbing Tony’s middle.

Tony allowed himself to feel the spark between them and not dwell on what lay ahead, allowing his own gaze to heat, allowing his grip around Steve to tighten.

“Are you afraid?” Tony asked, and it was a stupid question, of course Captain Steve Rogers was not afraid, but this just felt a lot like saying goodbye and that meant Tony had never been more afraid his entire life and—

“If we get caught in the middle of a nazi party, we’ll get imprisoned and die a very inglorious death,” Steve said. “Not the way I planned to go down.”

“Then let’s not go down at all,” Tony suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” Steve replied, then smirked. “But let’s take as many of  _ them _ down as we can.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Steve huffed an exasperated breath, but he was smiling now and that did funny things to Tony’s weak heart.

Steve’s hand was still busy pressing against Tony’s hardness, and with slightly shaking fingers, Tony pressed his own against Steve’s palm. “Just want you to know I don’t regret joining your team. No matter what happens.”

A nod. “And I don’t regret taking you with us.”

“Even though I repeatedly propositioned one of your team members?” Tony asked, grinning even as Steve cast him a very unimpressed stare.

“Shut up, Stark,” he told him, then his hand delved into Tony’s shorts and pulled him out. Steve followed suit with his own cock, pressing down against Tony before he spit into his hand and adjusted their position. Tony helped him by raising his knees somewhat, and he barely managed to stifle a groan when he felt Steve’s fingers press against him.

“Jim will kill us,” Tony grunted at the first thrust of Steve’s finger, his own digits pressing into Steve’s arms.

“Then I suggest you stay quiet,” Steve said, his voice unfairly steady as he pushed into him, back and forth, fast then slow.

It was no use, though, once Steve removed his fingers and actually entered him, the springs beneath them creaked with each turn, and at a particularly good move, Tony groaned as he pressed his mouth against Steve’s neck, pouring all of his noises into him.

The spark from before flared into something viciously urgent and dangerously all-consuming, and by now, Tony couldn’t care less if the team, or any other passenger, or the whole world caught them like this.

Despite his own words, Steve’s breathing was just as erratic and uncontrolled as Tony’s, his hips jerking forward almost helplessly. His grip on Tony’s arms was borderline painful, but it was good, always so damn good whenever Steve was inside him, and Tony clung to his body with everything he had.

“Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me,” he grunted against the skin of Steve’s neck, once, twice, he couldn’t control the words leaving his mouth anymore. He was shaking in Steve’s embrace, and he was close, so damn close. He sneaked a hand over Steve’s hip, fingers digging into his perfect ass, rubbing the muscle there before letting his thumb trail lower. He pressed his finger against Steve’s hole, digging in with the tip a little, and he felt Steve’s whole body jerk like he’d been electrocuted, a choked up sound leaving his lips, before he found his release deep inside him.

Tony leaned back up then, finally facing Steve again and kissing him, kissing him with all he had as he reached down to jerk himself hard and fast, finally tumbling over the edge as well.

For a few moments, they simply breathed against each other, foreheads touching lightly. Tony thought, despite all they’d done with each other in those past two years, this might as well be the most intimate moment they’d ever shared.

Only when Steve leaned back, glancing at Tony with a frown on his face, Tony remembered what he’d been saying just then, in the throws of his orgasm, like a pathetic, needy man who was afraid of being left alone.

“Sorry about that,” Tony blurted, adding a small chuckle for emphasis. “You know how I am. My mouth runs away with me. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Didn’t you?” Steve asked, his expression unreadable as he pulled out of him.

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again. This thing between them, it was as messed up, as twisted and as unwise as could possibly be.

Steve deserved better. Wife, kids, the whole nine yards. And then some.

And Tony didn’t want to part with him, knowing that he pitied him for having fallen for a comrade, when it was so clear that this had just been two men helping each other through a particularly hard time.

“No,” Tony confirmed, as he reached for the covers, quickly wiping them clean. He smirked even as he leaned in to kiss Steve. “Don’t worry your pretty head, darling.”

Steve’s eyes wandered over his face for a moment longer, then he nodded. “Alright.”

“Sleep now,” Tony suggested, thinking that Steve probably should be going back to his own bed, to get some rest before they’d have to exit the train. But Steve only tightened his hold on him, and if he needed the closeness before the mission tomorrow, Tony wouldn’t deny him that.

“Fuck yeah, please sleep now,” a voice called and Tony laughed when he realized it was Bucky’s. Logan followed with a “I’m not gettin’ paid enough for this shit” and Dugan just snored loudly.

Steve however, only closed his eyes, completely unbothered, putting a hand on Tony’s neck, and rubbing the skin there.

 

* * *

 

On the field, Steve was rarely nervous. On high alert, yes, but not jittery. He could focus, do what needed to be done the way very few knew how to do. Here, in a fancy high-society event, however, Steve felt incredibly out of his depth. He was buttoned up in an astoundingly well fitted suit, as were the rest of his men. In truth, they cleaned up pretty well, all things considered. 

The gala was held in a large conference building. The nazi decorations were prominent, black and red adorned every corner. The crowd was mixed, but at least half of the attendants were high-ranking nazi officers. Waiters toured the floor, offering refreshments, and light, unobtrusive music filled the air as a backdrop to the endless chatter.

The plan, as Tony had called it, was pretty straight forward and a little reckless. The gala, like any social event, had its own schedule. Meet and greet, a few speeches, and then move to the central part of the building, the lounge, for a performance with some meal over casual conversation. 

The assassination was to happen after the performance part of the event, when everyone was assembled in the lounge. During the gala, the squad could not band together, and Janet could only be with one group at the time, so Steve opted to have her accompany Logan and Dugan. They all carried their share of the plan, so-to-speak, but Steve and Tony were going to do the precision work towards the end. Bucky alone had been stationed across the street since noon for cover, and for the opportune moment. Steve would hear no objections to that, and no one dared voice one.

Of course, Steve had accounted for everything except his own complete lack of social know-how. He stood stiffly, watching the people mingling around him, and could barely fight the feel of bile at the back of his throat at the presence of so many nazis in one little room, at the Reichsadler hanging from every column, and at the knowledge that were they to reveal his true identity, even his super healing would not save him nor his squad from certain, brutal death. 

Tony leaned over, his warmth seeping in through the fabric of Steve's tuxedo jacket. "Ease up, darling…" he murmured to Steve, his voice bewitching and smooth, the faint scent of whiskey floating over in sweet puffs that caressed his face. Steve hummed a low sound when he felt Tony touch his arm. "And get your hand off your gun, hmm?" 

Steve side-eyed him but relented, pulled his hand out of his jacket and let it rest unnaturally still at his side. "Where is he?" he murmured back.

"Should be arriving any minute. Will you be able to hold off shooting him the face until the time we agreed on?" Tony asked, clearly amused. Steve couldn't fathom how Tony could be so relaxed when death was so imminent. 

"No promises." 

"Fair enough," Tony answered with a shrug and drew back from him. Somehow, the distance was more stifling than Tony's proximity could ever hope to be. What if he couldn't protect him? What if he lost everyone to this mission? He couldn't care much for his own life, but his men… and Tony… "And for god's sake, stop thinking whatever it is you're thinking. You look like you just took a bite out of a lemon." 

"I'm sharing the same air with about seventy nazis. Lemons are nothing compared to this," he whispered back with a scowl, but then tried to school his expression into something more amenable. Tony's brief smile was all the encouragement he needed then. At least if this was their last evening on this Earth, they were spending it together. It made some sick satisfaction settle in Steve's gut. 

"We'll dispatch at least a few of them before the night is out, and—oh, what perfect timing—" Tony started saying as Steve tensed right back up again. The doors opened and admitted the star of today's party: Kleiser, and beside him…

Oh God.

Next to him, Tony gasped and Steve felt himself blink repeatedly to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

This was… unexpected, to say the least.

"Are you seeing that," he asked, never shifting his eyes from the sight.

"I'm seeing it alright."

Kleiser walked into the room, and next to him, Hitler in the flesh. The two men were smiling, amused by some joke or another, and Steve made an aborted motion for his gun before thinking better of it and stopping. This was a chance he could not possibly pass up. Not even mentioning the A-Bomb, killing  _ Hitler _ could mean the end of the war!

Tony was still speaking next to him, but Steve's full focus was now on his target. It took a firm grasp at his arm to bring him back to the present, shooting a look at Tony that meant he was not to be disturbed now.

"Speeches first, bullets later," Tony reminded him in earnest, and Steve clenched his teeth. He would not let either of these targets get away today, not when they were this close, and he was so well armed.

 

* * *

 

The speeches were… tiring… and a part of Tony wished he didn’t understand the language as well as he did. Steve’s German wasn’t just as good, but he obviously understood enough for his expression to darken even more each minute.

One more ‘Heil Hitler’ and they could likely screw their plan and shoot their way out of here.

Very cautiously, Tony put a hand on Steve’s thigh, brushing his thumb back and forth reassuringly, the movement hidden beneath the table. They sat in the back of the room, near the exit door. Even from here, Tony could see Hitler and the higher-ups, including Kleiser, sitting at the table in the front. It was a bit overwhelming, being in this situation.

Failure or victory, it was all in their hands now.

Reaching for his suit jacket, Tony let his fingertips trail over the fine cloth. The stitching was sensational, as was the lining. Jan had really outdone herself with these.

Now it was Steve’s turn to put a hand on his leg and with a curt nod, Tony stopped fiddling with the material, letting his hands drop with a sigh.

Wait. The only thing they had to do now was wait.

 

* * *

 

As Jan had promised, all the important people, the politicians, the journalists, the businessmen, the celebrities, went into a large lounge once the official part of the gala was over. There was alcohol and cigars and a live band playing Richard Wagner in the background. During the gala, Kleiser had been awarded for his efforts, for his scientific innovations, for making the world a better place.

Tony’s hands really itched to punch him. Hard.

But punches weren’t on the agenda tonight. They had to blend with the crowds, congratulate everyone on a spectacular event, do some small talk before the right time presented itself.

Kleiser was already inside the lounge, laughing at some joke from the man next to him. If it were only about him, they could initiate their plan right now—but it wasn’t just about Kleiser anymore. If Jan’s informant could be trusted, Hitler always joined those kind of festivities later, which meant if they actually wanted to kill the damn snake, they’d have to cut off its head as well.

“Ich hole uns etwas zu trinken,” Tony told Steve in his best German, motioning towards the bar. He didn’t dare talk English in here, if anyone would hear them, they’d be as good as dead.  _ (I’m gonna get us something to drink.) _

Steve reached for his arm. “Ich—”

“Wasser für dich. Natürlich,” Tony finished, smiling pleasantly.  _ (Water for you. Sure.) _

Together, they walked towards the bar, and sat down.

For a moment Tony watched as a few people started slow-dancing in the middle of the room, while most of the other attendees sat in chairs, talking to each other, and he had the weird wish to pull Steve close to him, swaying to the music.

Surely, Steve would be stiff as he focused on his steps, in contrast to Tony’s fluid movements. It’d take a while for them to find their rhythm, but he was sure that they  _ could _ .

After taking a sip from his glass, Steve leaned in, whispering in his ear. “I can’t see Logan and Dugan.”

“Sie werden kommen,” Tony answered, trying to stay calm, though he’d noted their absence as well. Jan was nowhere to be seen either.  _ (They’ll come.) _

In the end, though, it took over an hour before Logan, Dugan and Jan showed up. They walked into the lounge and Tony could see from afar that their clothes were slightly in disarray. He raised an eyebrow at Steve, who was still staring at the group, obviously displeased.

“Sieht so aus als hätten sie… Spaß gehabt,” Tony suggested. His guess was that they probably had found a nazi to beat up after all, and he couldn’t help a small chuckle and earned himself a glare as well.  _ (Looks like they had fun.) _

“Los,” Steve said shortly, and Tony could see him fiddling with his suit jacket. The stitches Jan had made on a last moment’s notice were easily undone and just as Steve downed the rest of his glass, Tony could see him pressing a small package against the underside of the bar counter, where it stayed, invisible to the eye.  _ (Let’s go.) _

Tony glanced at the big grandfather clock—it was already past ten. The festivities were still going strong, but he was sure if Hitler actually made an appearance, it had to be soon—or not at all.

Pausing just long enough to take a deep breath, Tony slipped his free hand into his pocket and felt a sense of calmness wash over him, though his heart had begun to beat faster in a natural response to the adrenaline shooting through his veins.

With a quick glance at Steve, at the almost manic energy in his eyes, Tony pulled out the handkerchief from his suit pocket and with one hand, he dabbed at his forehead, while the other had extracted the content and pressed it to the counter as well.

The glue did its job perfectly, and the explosives inside would do an even better one.

It was, by far, the smallest thing with the most destructiveness Tony had ever created. It certainly fit this elegant setting.

“Ein schöner Abend, nicht wahr?” Tony said, overdoing the accent a little as he stood up. He shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall over his arm as he looked at Dugan.  _ (A nice evening, don’t you think?) _

Dugan nodded, and Tony watched as he and Logan busied themselves with some of the large curtains, placing their explosives as well, and he could practically feel Steve roll his eyes when Logan patted the swastika symbol lovingly afterwards.

Now it was Tony’s turn to lean in, his mouth close to Steve’s ear. Very quietly he said, “You should go, I’ll stay and wait for the guest of honor. I’ll join you later.”

When he leaned back, Steve’s face was as impassive as ever. Without saying anything, he turned around, walking towards the others. He could feel some of the guests casting glances at them, but he knew Jan had done an impeccable job with the suits, and she’d even adjusted some of their hairstyles. They blended in perfectly.

When they’d reached the other side of the room, Tony drew Jan into a hug, then pressed a kiss on the back of her hand. “Du siehst bezaubernd aus,” he told her and smiled when she pursed her lips.  _ (You look lovely.) _

“Dankeschön,” she replied, then looked at Steve, her smile turning into a light grin. “Meine Güte, hör schon auf so ernst drein zu schauen” she chided. “Es ist so ein wunderschöner Abend, wir sollten feiern!”  _ (Thank you. - Oh God, stop looking so serious already. It’s such a nice evening, we should be celebrating!) _

“Werden wir,” Steve answered gravely. Then, he turned towards the others. “Ich denke es ist Zeit, nach Hause zu gehen.” _ (We will. - I think it’s time to go home.) _

Dugan and Logan both didn’t speak one German word, but they recognized the words for what they were. The sign to get out and to get out  _ fast _ . They nodded, waiting for Jan to say her goodbyes.

“Ich sehe dich später,” she said pointedly, giving Tony a look that spoke volumes.  _ (I’ll see you later.) _

“Natürlich,” Tony answered, though in his heart, he could barely believe it would all work out so smoothly.  _ (Of course.) _

He fully expected for the others to leave then, and at first he didn’t understand what was happening when Steve leaned in to give Logan some final words. Steve petted his shoulder, then took a step back as he watched the others go.

“What—” Tony started, then cleared his throat. “Du solltest  _ auch _ nach Hause gehen.”  _ (You should go home, too.) _

“Nein,” Steve replied simply, not explaining himself, but the look he cast Tony spoke volumes. This was most definitely not up for discussion.

Inwardly, Tony cursed him. The stubborn, heroic, dogmatic man—of course he wouldn’t leave anyone behind. But this, this was plainly stupid, reckless, and unnecessary. Steve didn’t need to die here.

He hoped some of those feelings were visible on his face, but Steve seemed to ignore it either way as he steered Tony towards the exit. There, he repositioned them, then started talking about some random newspaper article he’d been reading, looking for the world like nothing was wrong at all. After a little while, Tony realized that the people around them were noticeably more excited, the chatter ranking up both in frequency and volume. Then, all at once, the voices died, and a complete stillness settled over the room. Dutifully, all guests turned around, and Tony knew, even before he reluctantly raised his right hand in greeting, standing straight as he tried not to look too repulsed, that the guest of honor had finally arrived.

 

* * *

 

Even in their company, with everything that was at stake, Steve couldn't bring himself to do it. He could not salute to the leader of the nazis any more than he could hold a proper conversation in German. It was not a matter of preference, he genuinely just could not do it. No one seemed to notice, or care, or so he had hoped, but Tony was tense beside him, like he was ready to keel over from the stress. 

And it wasn't just the situation they had found themselves in, really. Hitler entered the room and found his designated chair and chatter rose once more. No, it was the fact that a timer was running down, running low— _ fast _ —and they had to get out of here. He spotted Kleiser heading for the bar where he and Tony have been a few minutes ago. One unwitted touch and it would all be over, but…

"Two minutes, Cap," Tony muttered under his breath so only Steve could hear him. It wouldn't matter at this point if Kleiser found the bomb. They had to get out now. Steve grasped Tony's arm and yanked him out the door. He closed it carefully, then barricaded it before nodding down the corridor. 

"Run." 

Tony spent not a second for hesitation and broke into a run, Steve keeping one step behind him at all times. Dugan, Logan and Bucky were supposed to be covering an exit each, and Tony and Steve were in charge of this one, the one they were headed towards, but then someone stepped in from around a corner—"Guard!"—Tony hissed just as Steve pulled out his gun and shot the guard down. It was unfortunate that they should give any heads-up to the crowd inside, but the guard had been holding a gun of his own, and Steve was not having anyone shooting at him or his Tony if he could avoid it.

There were people running after them, commands being shouted across the large entry hall. They barely dodged the few bullets that were shot in their direction.

They skidded out of the building and were still running across the street and into an alley just as an enormous explosion rocked the Earth beneath them. Tony stumbled into him and Steve instinctively caught him, pressed him to the wall of the alley and waited for a long moment before mouthing 'stay' and rushing back out into the cloud of debris. He had to make sure— _ had to! _

"Cap!" Tony called after him, but Steve would have none of it. The explosives, whatever it had been Tony had concocted, had been so powerful it tore the whole building down on the people inside, but even so, Steve was sure there would be survivors. Time was of the essence. With the gun in hand, he approached the carnage, and Logan rounded up to him a minute after. 

"Are you crazy?" the man spat. "Get back ta cover! Y'got Bucky an' us on maggot duty, yer gonna get yer genius boyfriend killed!" And Steve whirled around just in time to see Tony running over, much slower and at a more human pace. The words Logan was using hadn't even registered, truly, but he swore and threw his gun to Logan. 

"You get them good, Jim, promise me that," Steve urged even as he turned to approach Tony.

"Try an' fuckin' stop me, scout." 

So Steve nodded his head and rushed to Tony. "I told you to stay!" he roared, dragging Tony back to the alley. In the chaos that rose around them, military vehicles were starting to rev to life, and Steve knew they had precious little time before they had to get to Jan's safe house if they ever wanted to make it out of Germany alive. 

"Well you can shove your heroics up your ass, Rogers, do you think I'm gonna stand back and watch you get yourself killed?!" Tony screamed at him, frenetic, as they slid out of sight. Tony was livid and it gave Steve pause. He let go of him, and Tony took three steps back away, pulling at his disheveled clothes to try and put them in some form of order futily. "This isn't just your call to make," Tony finished a little lamely and shoved his hands in his pockets, his expression sour and almost petulant.

"And coming after me was yours? Bucky is sniping out there, he could've mistaken you for one of the targets—"

"He wouldn't have—"

"He is just a man," Steve said, finally able to control the volume of his voice as the noise gradually subsided. He watched Tony for another long moment before making a swift decision. Now was not the time to argue. "We'll review this insubordination later. Now we have a safe-house to get to, or we won't  _ have _ later." 

Tony didn't object, thankfully, and let Steve lead the two of them to the address. Steve rapped on the door in the correct pattern, and Jan let them in. Dugan was already there, but Bucky and Logan had not reported in. Janet looked nerve-wrecked and exhausted, and Dugan was disappointed he didn't get to shoot as many "Fritzes" as he'd hoped. Tony sat in solemn silence in the far corner, picking at his fingernails and ignoring everyone else other than Janet. 

Over the night, both Bucky and Logan made it back. Bucky was in top shape, but Logan, who got back last, had a bullet wound in his side. "It'll heal over on its own so quit yer fussin'," he grumbled at Jan, who insisted on at least removing the bullet. Logan relented eventually, since Jan was not one to be thwarted when she had her mind set on something.

Late in the next day, Janet drove them to the train and hugged each of them separately for a long moment. "Take care of yourselves," was the only thing she kept muttering over and over again. Steve hoped they would get the chance to thank her more properly, with some gift or another, once the war was officially over. The newspapers were all raging about the passing of a legend, and Steve knew the gap left by Hitler's assassination could not be easily filled. And Kleiser’s scientific advancements were no more useful with him gone. It would take normal, non-genius scientists years to decrypt his security codes. 

They boarded the train and rode over the borders, and all that while Tony only spoke with Steve when he absolutely had to. There was none of the affection that Steve was used to getting from him.

Was that all it took for the thing between them—whatever it had been—to end?

By the late afternoon on the train, Steve had been able to debrief with each of his men. Logan, it seemed, had been the one to verify that the Führer was dead, as well as Kleiser. He'd run into some soldiers on the way, hence the injury, but they were an easy lot to get rid of, all things considered. Tony's booth was the last one for him to visit. Yes, they were all supposed to share one at night, but during the day they needed some space from each other. 

Bucky saw him hesitate at the door and rolled his eyes. "Come on, Cap. You gotta talk about it sooner or later." He looked to the door. "Dunno what exactly happened, but we can't stand to see our token love-birds in a quarrel, so if you don't solve it between yourselves, I think Logan might just lock you up in there until you do." 

At that, Steve snorted a laugh and shook his head. "He better not," he said, finally knocking on the door lightly. 

"S'open," came the non-committal answer, and Steve opened the door. Tony glanced at him briefly, then looked away. "Come to finish yelling at me?" 

"Can I come in?" Steve asked, ignoring the bite of Tony's words. Tony shrugged, so Steve stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Now, he realized, the moment of truth has arrived. All these months working side-by-side with Tony, rolling in bed with him, getting close to him—it was an irreversible process. Steve, who'd caught himself having thoughts like 'My Tony,' and 'After the war,' and 'together', knew he'd fallen hard, and that he couldn't pretend his outburst on the explosion ground had been rational. He'd been _terrified_ of losing Tony so close to the moment of victory, and if he had any hopes of having Tony understand that reaction, he would have to explain where it came from, and that was _almost_ _as_ terrifying. 

 

* * *

 

“I’m not sorry I came after you,” Tony said even before Steve had sat down. “If that’s what you want to hear from me, you can just leave again.”

The train was moving at a steady pace and despite the fact that there were a lot of people whispering to each other, sharing the news, nothing had changed.

Tony reached for the glass in front of him, breathing in the flavor of the whiskey he’d saved for this occasion only, then took a nip.

“You should be,” Steve said, his eyes flickering to the glass for a moment. “My order was very clear.”

“You wouldn’t have known when to stop,” Tony snapped. “You only would’ve stopped when some nazi scum shot you in the head.”

Steve pursed his lips, glancing at him. “You’re right.”

“Come again?”

“I said you’re right. We had a plan, I shouldn’t have strayed off course.”

Tony blinked, then blinked some more. “That’s… good. That you see that.”

They fell silent again, and it was clear that Steve wanted to say more. He was fiddling with his fingers, wringing them repeatedly and Tony couldn’t stop staring at him because he’d rarely seen Steve  _ nervous _ .

Well, their mission was very clearly over. They’d achieved much more than they’d set out to do, not only stopping Kleiser but also most of the nazi regime. This was the end of their crazy journey. It didn’t take a genius to know what Steve was wracking his brain over.

The only thing Tony could do now was to make it a little easier for him.

“So,“ he started, his voice casual. “This is it. We’ve done it.”

Steve looked up, smiling somewhat crookedly. “Yes.”

“We ended the war.”

“Hopefully… yes.”

“Hard to believe it, huh?” Tony prompted.

Steve pondered that for a moment. “I always trusted all of you… I believed we could do it.”

Of course. Tony smiled to himself. Only Steve would look at unbeatable odds and not only figure out a way to maneuver around them, but to also stomp them down on his way.

Steve could do everything he wanted to do—everything he truly believed in. That was one of those things Tony had learned early on. If he put his mind to it, Steve Rogers could move mountains.

“And now?” Tony asked, forcing his voice to stay calm. “You going back to Gail? Or just enjoy yourself for a while? Once you’re home you’ll be a war hero. Bet the girls will love you.”

That had Steve look at him with a deep frown on his forehead, and Tony wondered what he’d said this time that had Steve disapprove of.

“Or… not,” Tony added. “You’ll get job offers, too. And money. You know if they ever put a price on Hitler's head? Probably not. But hey, they’ll give you whatever the hell you want, either way. You’ll just have to say the word.”

“I don’t care about that.” Steve’s expression was constantly getting more sour.

“No, of course not,” Tony conceded, sighing. He took a long sip from the whiskey, then opened the bottle and refilled his glass.

While he drank, he took Steve in. He just… he’d always been a breathtaking mixture of strength and sorrow. But Steve was also undoubtedly the best Tony had ever met. He couldn’t fathom the weight of the world resting so comfortably on any other man’s shoulders.

Tony had always had a habit of being attracted to people who were so larger than life, but with Steve, it had been different. Love had been slow-coming for him, too. He’d looked at Steve, and he just didn’t want to taint him with his baggage. Not with everything Steve had been through already. Steve was so young… he was  _ still _ so young. His eyes told the story of a thousand lifetimes, but he hadn’t even yet seen the span of three decades.

The silence settled between them. Stifling and uncomfortable.

Then Steve asked, “What is this to you?” 

Tony blinked. Furrowed his brows. “What?”

“This. What we… whatever we are. What is it to you?”

A beat. Tony sighed, staring down at his hands. “A beautiful distraction. Salvation. Something to look forward to each day. Whatever you want to call it.”

“That’s all?” Steve asked. He was leaning forward now, his hands moving towards Tony’s, but not yet touching.

Tony smiled, leaning back. “What do you want to hear?”

“Do you love me?” Steve asked and the question, so sudden and plainly spoken—he had not expected that.

“That’s not fair.”

“I know,” Steve said. “Answer me.”

Tony took another swig, pondering to simply drink from the bottle, because by the end of this conversation, passing out from alcohol was probably something to look forward to.

“I do,” he answered, after letting the whiskey burn down his throat. “And trust me, I know it’s stupid. But I apparently don’t have a say. Can’t change it.” He stopped and held his breath as he pushed his face into his waiting hands.

Fuck, this wasn’t what he’d planned. He simply wanted to bid Steve goodbye once they were back home in the States.

The world seemed to unravel at Steve’s stillness. At his silence. Tony wanted to see his eyes but feared what he would find. Those depths had more power over him than he ever cared to admit. 

“Maybe I don’t want you to change it,” Steve said, his voice as soft as Tony had ever heard it before. “Tony, look at me.”

Tony looked up, and before he could say something, warm lips pressed against his mouth, and Tony all but collapsed. It killed every goddamn cliché, but having Steve near him—it had always made him feel warm.

When they parted, he emitted a trembling breath and knew.  _ Yes _ . This was love. And it scared the shit out of him. Steve wielded the power to break him with the barest glance, the softest whisper, the…

Yes. Definitely love.

“I made a choice,” Steve told him, leaning down a little to catch his gaze. “It shouldn’t have taken me this long, but accepting it wasn’t easy for me. I’m sure now. This is where I wanna be. Here. With you. When we go home, I want us to be together.”

Tony stared, and he had a hard time making sense of Steve’s words. “It’s not that easy, Steve.”

It was definitely the wrong thing to say to Steve Rogers, by the way he looked at him right now. “Why not?” he asked.

Tony huffed, “You  _ know _ why.”

He shook his head dismissively. “Explain it to me.”

“Well, we’re both men, for one.”

“I noticed.” 

Tony didn’t crack a smile. “That might be okay here. People at home won’t accept it. We could go to jail for this.”

Steve took a deep breath. “I know that. Two years ago I couldn’t have imagined it.” He kissed Tony’s temple. “But I’ve already played this round with myself. You can’t change my mind anymore, unless you don’t want this.” He neared him again. “Doesn’t mean a thing to me what others think of it. It’s right for  _ me _ .”

“That’s just it. I’m  _ not _ right for you. I’m… an alcoholic, my heart will at one day surely give out on me. I work too hard, I constantly forget things.” He sighed again. “I’m not good for you. You might find me interesting for a while, but you’ll want someone normal at one point.”

At that, Steve arched a brow and scoffed at him. “You really think so?”

Tony grimaced. “I couldn’t live with myself if my… being with you would make you bitter.”

“Tony, I  _ know _ you,” Steve said. “All of you. I don’t want normal. I want this.” It was clear he was grasping for a concept Steve hadn't normally considered for himself. "I want to be happy."

“And  _ I _ make you happy?” Tony asked, disbelief likely written all over his face. They’d used each other for sex, to vent their frustration at night for so long, but even Tony could admit how much closer they’d grown in those last weeks.

Steve smiled, cupping his cheek, his fingertips kneading Tony’s neck. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes,” Tony said, grimacing.

Steve didn’t look too bothered. “Then I have a lot of work to do.”

He leaned in then, and it amazed Tony how quickly the time and tide could change, and how Steve was leading him fast to the once-dreaded Point Of No Return.

He hadn’t wanted this. To join this war and fall in love in the process. Upon meeting Steve, he had fought against it with everything he had left. It was quite possibly the most intimidating thing he had ever done.

Tony was certain Steve could feel his heart pounding. A part of him was still convinced that at any minute, Steve would tell him to quit embarrassing himself. He still had no idea what ultimately persuaded Steve to give this a try, but if he really wanted it… well. As he’d said—if Steve wanted something, there was no stopping him.

“I’ve warned you,” he told him.

Steve rolled his eyes. “You have. Now come here.”

And Tony did. Tasting Steve’s lips as he sought entrance, filling his mouth with a sweet moan of surrender when Tony granted it. He felt his fists coil in the leather of Steve’s jacket, felt his entire body sink into the most inviting embrace he had never known.

And he knew he was lost. If not before, then definitely now. As though the kisses they had shared in the past didn’t exist. As though this was the first.

And Tony suspected, in many ways, it was.

  
  
  
  


**Epilogue**

 

The war, as it was, hadn't ended immediately. There was plenty of cleanup to do, and the slow process of healing had only just begun in the European Continent, but Steve and his unit, Tony included, had been called back home after their successful assassination of the menace known as Herr Kleiser.

They met Fury, their operations-director, got all the congratulations a man as grumpy as Fury could spare, and were then dismissed, granted leave for a whooping three months while the world got busy reorienting itself around the new power-balance in the world. Unbeknownst to them while they were fighting in the field, the soviet front was becoming a matter of international security, but Fury assured them there would be time to worry about that after their leave, and sent them off. 

They shook hands at the train station. Logan was first to leave, and when asked where to he offered only a grunt. Dugan joked that he was probably going back to being a lumberjack now that the war was over. Everyone laughed other than Logan, who merely gave Dugan a look and shrugged. "Tree's not gonna chop themselves," he said plainly, which only got everyone laughing more. 

Dugan was next. He said he would be visiting family and probably doing a whole lot of nothin' if he could get away with it. Soon enough, it was down to Bucky, Tony and Steve. They stood at the platform, and Bucky pursed his lips, sneaking glances at his friends. Steve could tell he wanted to say things he couldn't, because of where they were. 

"We're all going back to New York, huh?" Bucky finally said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Steve said nothing and Tony gave a solemn nod of the head. "Bet Gail's gonna cry buckets when she sees you're back safe and sound, Steve." His tone was contemplative, and he watched Tony as he spoke, but Tony didn't show any perceptible reaction. 

"Maybe," Steve finally answered with a brief shrug. 

Bucky ducked his head and kicked the ground lightly, turned away from the two of them without another word. There really wasn't much they could say to one another about the matters of the heart. Not with so many people around.

They arrived at New York later that day, having exchanged few words throughout the ride. Bucky waved at them before heading in the other direction, towards his parents' house, and Tony tilted his head at Steve once it was just the two of them. 

"Share a cab to my place? Or should I call my chauffeur?" Tony offered, and for some reason, he seemed to be a little uncomfortable. “You could stay with me for a few days…”

"No one would mind?" Steve asked, a little more stiffness in his tone than he intended. Tony shook his head.

"No. Don’t worry."

Steve nodded slowly. "Okay," he said, grabbing his duffle and shouldering it. "Let's go with taxi." 

He started walking, and only noticed after a few steps that Tony didn’t follow. He turned around, raising a brow at him.

Tony looked so unsure of himself all of a sudden, and Steve itched to hold him, touch him, even something small, but it had been days since they could be just the two of them, and the street was fairly busy, and Steve didn't want to risk being found out. 

“Tony?” he prompted.

“You could stay for a few days,” Tony repeated, his tone lighter than his expression suggested. “Or you could just stay.”

Steve cocked his head at him, and smiled. He walked those few steps back, coming to a stop right in front of Tony, not too close, but close enough. He looked down into those blue eyes watching him; endless, inscrutable depths that he thought he could easily drown in.

“I know what you were asking,” he said softly. "I will stay."

Tony swallowed, clearly trying to stay composed and Steve wanted to reach for his hand so badly. To brush his fingers along his as he pressed a kiss on his forehead, but this world was far from perfect, and with Tony by his side, it felt—maybe for the first time—like he could still push through. Could still somehow handle this life, however messed up it was.

So he just cast him another smile, and was rewarded with one of Tony’s rare completely open, completely unguarded, completely  _ happy _ smiles.

“Let’s go home,” Steve suggested and as they both shouldered their bags and started walking towards the row of cabs, he allowed himself to revel in the incredible warmth that one single word inspired.


End file.
